


Lingering in the Golden Glow

by tanktrilby



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Elements, offscreen death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:31:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanktrilby/pseuds/tanktrilby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru sees dead people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lingering in the Golden Glow

They’re sitting outside on the roof for lunch when Haru turns to Nagisa and says, “I see dead people.”

Nagisa stills, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. He turns his head to look at Haru carefully.

“Haru-chan,” he says. His voice falters; tears begin welling in his eyes. He looks like his heart’s breaking. Haru only feels a mild stab of impatience, so against his instincts, he adds, “It isn’t scary.”

Nagisa shakes his head, liquid catching on his lashes before spilling on to his cheeks. Haru has clearly made a terrible mistake: it’s been two months. He’d thought it was long enough. It’s one of those things he just doesn’t understand. Maybe he should have told Nagisa and Rei together, but Rei might be his friend but Nagisa’s family, and Nagisa’s always seemed to be able to take everything in stride. 

He reaches out and pats Nagisa on the head awkwardly, the blond hair soft and warm under his hand. Nagisa looks like this makes whatever it is that’s hurting him worse, so he takes his hand away and tries not to look too lost.

Eventually, Nagisa’s eyes begin to clear up. He surprises Haru by hugging him very tightly, almost desperately, his thin arms wrapped tight around Haru’s sides.

“Oh, Haru-chan,” Nagisa says, in a trembling voice. “I miss him too.”

*

Ama-chan doesn’t start her classes anymore until he arrives, so Haru has picked up a habit of being one of the first students in. He takes out his books and sits up straight, adjusting his chair as Ama-chan wrote the topic on the board.

“You made Nagisa really upset, Haru-chan,” Makoto’s voice comes from Haru’s right, vaguely centered on the desk he used to sit at. Haru turns his head and there he is, drained of color and hovering unhappily near his chair. His eyes are a bright, remembered green of open fields and emeralds.

Haru says, “Hm.”

“He’s worried about you.” Makoto says. “He wants to help.”  

Haru rolls his eyes and pretends to pay close attention to the reminders Ama-chan is writing on the blackboard.

Makoto chuckles.

*

Haru changes back into his uniform, shoulders his bag, and waits.

The air doesn’t shift, and it doesn’t get colder. There isn’t any warning at all, but Haru’s not surprised when Makoto appears at his side silently.

“Haru-chan is turning in early,” Makoto says gently, smiling a little. “Does that mean it will rain today?”

“Drop the -chan,” Haru mumbles. There’s no one in the locker room to give him odd looks, which is a relief. He begins walking towards the gates, back home.

“Haru, you can see me,” Makoto says, sounding troubled. “No one else does. Isn’t that a little scary?”

Haru shakes his head. Truthfully, he was less disturbed by it than Makoto was- when he’d come back from the funeral to find Makoto sitting at his table, all he’d felt was an intense, almost crippling relief.

Makoto gets a funny look on his face whenever Haru mentions this -like it hurts him in a way he can’t understand- so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I think the rules are different here,” Makoto says slowly. “I mean, maybe certain people can see certain things.”

Haru looks at him. He’s looking up at the glimmers of sparse starlight in the sky, the blurred lines of his body washed over by the reds and browns of the sunset. It’s familiar in a way that makes Haru’s chest ache, so he looks abruptly away.

“Is it just you?” he asks.

Makoto shrugs. “Sometimes I meet other people, people we don’t know.” He pauses thoughtfully, and Haru has to glance back to check he’s still there. “I think we can stay here until we’re ready to move on.”

Haru feels his throat clench. “Is it lonely?”

Makoto’s smile, the one thing that Haru knows best. “I have Haru-chan.”

*

Haru comes home to the smell of burning.

He’d been too preoccupied with avoiding the house seventeen steps away -“when will we see onii-chan again?” Ren had asked, panicky, scared, draped over in black- to notice that the lights are on in his own.

 _“Goddammit!”_ a voice from the kitchen rings through the air.

Haru blinks. Behind him, he hears Makoto sigh, “Rin.”

Rin is throwing a saucepanful of flames out of the kitchen window when Haru decides that he probably shouldn’t ignore the issue any longer. “Rin,” he says.

Rin whirls on him immediately, hair in wild disarray, cherry-colored eyes glinting. “You fucking-“ he gestures with the burnt pan. Haru notes that it’s unsalvageable, and is a little miffed. “You backward fish-boy, why the fuck do you only stock mackerel in your house?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, going on to gesture at the counter with the remains of Haru’s favorite pan. “ _And_ all the milk you have expired around the time we turned eleven, your tea smells weird and if I find one more pineapple in this fucking room I will ram it up your ass to see how much you like the fucking stuff then.”

“ _Rin_ ,” Makoto chastises, unheard as Rin whirlwinds around the room some more, opening all the doors and windows so that trickles of moonlight slant in, along with faint snatches of voices and phrases from the street below.

Rin opens the front door last, and hesitates.

“Ask him to stay,” Makoto prompts gently.

Haru opens his mouth, only to close it once more when he sees the way Rin’s shoulders tense. Crybaby Rin, he thinks, what would he have done if Makoto showed up on his doorstep?

“Rin,” he says instead. “What did you do to my mackerel?”

*

Rin makes him throw out the dubious milk and helps him make tea, generally by making biting comments and spilling sugar all over the counter. Halfway through, Haruka pushes him aside with his shoulder and Rin pushes back, and they spend about three minutes like that in a meaningless back-and-forth shoving contest that Rin wins largely because he cheats by using his hips for leverage.

“No wonder you keep losing to me,” Rin says, shoveling in more sugar to make up for the lack of milk. “You actually don’t have any upper body strength, do you?”

“Just because I don’t waste my time lifting pieces of plastic,” Haru mutters irritably, jerking his cup away from Rin and taking a tentative sip. It’s too sweet, as expected, and Haru wonders what made him let Rin into his kitchen in the first place.

Rin snorts at the expression on his face. “I can stomach more sugar than you.”

Haruka glares viciously at him, is about to retort, when Makoto’s sigh passes into the room gently.

“The two of you are always like this,” and Makoto sounds quietly content. “That’ll never change.”

Haru carefully sets his cup on the table. He’s aware of Rin’s confused “Oi, Haru,” distantly.

“I have my friends after all,” Makoto says, his eyes crinkling into two half-moons, smile like a flutter across Haruka’s spine. “There’s-“

He cuts himself off, eyes widening, catching on the tremble of Haru’s shoulders. “Haru,” he whispers, moving forward, but Haru flinches back. The look that flashes across Makoto’s face feels like the snapping of limbs, the deep ache in his heart slowly building, building. He can hear his heartbeat thundering in the silence, too fast, too loud.

It’s then that Rin wraps both arms around him and hugs him, warm and tight. His nose inhales a lungful of chlorine and fabric softener, his cheek rubbing against the cotton of Rin’s T-shirt.

Haru shakes in Rin’s arms. “It’s gonna be alright,” Rin says hoarsely, and his brilliance and confidence and surety pools against his voice, giving meaning to what should have been an empty promise.

Haruka tries to stay completely still, protected from the cold touch in his own heart by the blanketing presence of Rin’s fire.

*

Haru lies curled in his bathtub, watching his splayed-out fingers through the dance of the ripples with a detached interest.

“You’ll fall asleep in there, Haru-chan,” Makoto says gently.

Haruka looks up at him, startled. A hand is extended in the air, vanishing into nothingness just a centimeter from his face. He feels the touch anyway, cool and familiar against his cheek.

“I’m so sorry for earlier,” Makoto says, with aching tenderness. “I- there’s-“

“It’s fine,” Haru says.

“I just wanted-“ Makoto lets out another sigh, softer than the last. He smiles. “We’re okay now, aren’t we?”

Haru nods, looking away.

“We’ve never fought,” Makoto says, almost amused. “I wouldn’t want to start now.” His eyes sparkle, and something gives way in Haru’s chest, crumbling away gently to let warmth seep in. Makoto says, “Hush; Rin’s coming.”

Haruka lifts his head to see Rin close the door with his foot, bearing a white towel Haru recognizes as his own. Amusingly, Rin is covering his eyes with his hand, pressing the vines of wine-red hair into his face.

“You left this behind,” he mutters, trying to sound morose. “Moron.”

Haru allows himself to smile very wide, hidden from Rin’s eyes. Makoto chuckles along.

“I’m going to throw this,” Rin announces. “If you’re such a bigshot at hand-eye coordination, you’ll be-“

“Rin,” Haru says, leveling his voice out carefully. “Open your eyes.”

Rin begins spluttering. His face goes a shade of red Haruka is used to seeing only on tomatoes, and clashes horribly with Rin’s hair. “What- I go to an all-boys school, I’m not- there’s no reason-“

Haruka rolls his eyes. “Idiot.”

Makoto says, laughingly, “I think Rin’s worried he might not be able to stop staring of he opens his eyes.”

Haru chokes on thin air and begins coughing uncontrollably. Makoto’s eyes glint with veiled mischief but Rin rushes to his side and pats his back, perching on the edge of the tub.

“What now?” he asks, skin-deep impatience and enough concern to drown in.

“Tell him,” Makoto suggests softly. “He’ll understand.”

Haru draws his hand around in the water and watches the waves climb along his skin. The water doesn’t give him any answers.

“I can see ghosts,” he says, after some silent contemplation of the bathwater.

Rin’s hand stops on the feather-light circles he had been drawing along Haru’s shoulders, and then carefully resumes. “Makoto?” he asks.

Haruka looks up at him. Rin’s gaze catches on his immediately, and the soft glow of pink on his cheeks tumbles to a more solid red, but he doesn’t look away.

Haru nods.

Rin’s throat works as he swallows. “That’s-“ his hand stills on Haruka’s shoulders. “That makes a weird sort of sense, I guess.”

Haru blinks up at him, but Rin’s biting his lip, mulling it over. “You were acting more off than usual,” he says. “And, well.” He glances at Haru through his eyelashes, looking awkward. “I’d be worried if it wasn’t something like this, because all the other reasons are pretty creepy.”

 _Scary,_ he means, and Haru knows it instantly. Rin had been _worried._

“I told you,” Makoto points out triumphantly, and Haruka rolls his eyes.

 “You’re bad at this,” Haru accuses, shifting so that Rin’s absent-minded circles continue on to his back. The hand falters, then resumes less softly, rubbing around Haru’s neck and spine.

“Fuck you, fish-boy,” Rin snaps back. He pinches a little, and Haru manages to contain his shiver to just his hands. “Anyway. This ghost thing. It’s just Makoto you see?”

Haru nods, closing his eyes. “He sees the others.”

“You mean, the rest of the-“ here, Rin gestures expansively- “like, the afterlife?”

“Not everyone,” Haru says. “Ones who still have something left to do.”

Rin goes quiet after this for a while, and Haru turns his head to see that he’s considering this. He’s biting his lip again, which is a habit Haru wishes he didn’t have, the sharpness of his teeth sinking temptingly into the flesh of his lower lip. Haru’s acutely aware of the searing warmth of Rin’s hands against his bare skin, as well.

“Does that mean Makoto-“ Rin says, and then stops.

The silence wells between them for a minute. Haru has no intention of breaking it. Instead, he leans into the hesitant burn of Rin’s hands, and thinks about how Rin’s shoulders were held shatteringly high at the funeral, the harsh cuts of his cheekbones as he gritted his teeth so hard it was audible.

He glances at Makoto. He’s watching Rin, looking sad and troubled.

“Can we help?” Rin asks finally.

Makoto shakes his head. Haru mirrors him awkwardly.

“So what, we just-“ Rin withdraws his hand to clutch his chest, his words bitten out in fits and spurts. Haru watches anxiously as Rin seems to shudder bodily, and Makoto comes over with a cry, touching his back gently, soothing. “We just wait around and he-“ a hiccup, and a hitched breath. “He doesn’t _deserve-“_

Rin is _crying_.

 Makoto shushes him, unheard, because Rin’s sobs are cracked and raw, and _Haru had no idea Rin was so sad._ Rin had cried buckets, and so had Nagisa and Kou, and Haru had thought their grief had washed away, didn’t know that it was still driving through Rin’s fragile heart, splitting him in two.

His veins throb, and melt, and sing. He doesn’t know what to do.

Makoto’s hand reaches out towards the chaotic tumble of Rin’s head. Haru does the same, letting his fingers curl in whisper-soft hair the color of sakura petals. He draws Rin close, lets his tears soak into his skin.

“It’s okay to be sad,” he whispers, and something inside him shakes itself free, leaving him heavy and weightless and immeasurably glad.

*

Rin finds the speakers in the living room and blows about twenty layers of dust off them. “And they actually work!” he crows, and begins fiddling around with his iPod. Haru watches in utter bemusement.

The song that springs forth from the speakers is shockingly joyful, like a love confession shouted from a rooftop. Haru had no idea Rin listened to this kind of thing.

“Shut up,” Rin says when Haru’s lips twitch, and then he proceeds to haul Haru to his feet on to the wooden floor, their bare feet touching. Rin pulls on Haru’s left arm, then his right, and forces Haruka to dance along in time to the music.

Rin is an excellent dancer, and the infectious happiness of the song strips him of his hesitance and makes him laugh freely, and when Haru actually loosens up and swings himself around on his own, Rin’s grin is brighter than the sun reflecting off the ocean and twice as brilliant.

Ten minutes later, he’s lightheaded, and his feet hurt, and he feels like he’s been swimming in pure sunlight. Rin laughs and buries his head in the crook of his shoulder when an audiotape of some book comes on next on his iPod, and Haru’s hands caress the softness of his hair over and over, sometimes daring to dip on to his shoulder blades.

Breathless and half-intoxicated, he knows he’s flushing when Rin pulls back to smile at him. Haru smiles back despite himself, and Rin leans down to kiss him.

 “I’ll change that,” Rin says a moment later, and his face is flushed and his eyes keep darting to Haru’s lips. He steps back to fiddle with his iPod and Haru watches him, feeling like he was riding a crescendo of a song, violins and synthesizers and all the ways Rin made him alive.

*

The air doesn’t shift, and it doesn’t get colder. Makoto stands in front of him, his hand outstretched.

He glows brighter when Haruka’s hand clasps his, and his smile is almost too beautiful to look at for too long.

“Our neighbors, Taro-san and Hinako-san, have had a baby,” Makoto says, in a quiet, peaceful voice like the upward cadence of a stream. “Kaa-san watches over her when they’re out, and Ren and Ran try to play with her.”

Haru wants to say, _I haven’t seen anything like that_ , but his voice gets stuck in his throat.

“Nagisa’s recruiting more first years for the club. Pretend to be surprised when he tells you,” Makoto says with a chuckle.

A swearword rends the air. Makoto winces, and grins. “And Rin-“ he guides their joined hands to his chest, and the glow grows brighter, blinding. Haru feels the tears gathering on his eyelashes and rubs his forearm along his eyes irritably.

“You’ll be alright,” Makoto says, looking cautiously happy, almost surprised. “I know it.”

Haru tries to snort, but it makes the tears fall faster.

Makoto leans forward, presses his lips in an achingly tender kiss to the corner of Haru’s mouth. “Be good, Haru-chan,” he whispers.

“Drop the -chan,” Haru says back, his voice gritty.

Makoto smiles, and the light grows too much to bear. It makes the tears grow bigger until a mist forms over his eyes, and when he allows himself to blink, the light’s gone, and so is Makoto.

A warmth lingers on his hands and chest.

Another song drifts into the room, carrying Rin with it, and Haru lets himself be drawn in to Rin’s arms, and dances until he doesn’t know whether he’s ever been happier than he is now.  

**Author's Note:**

> I have a sneaking suspicion that this could be interpreted as slightly anti-MakoHaru, but that wasn't my intention in the least. 
> 
> I'll stop talking (and sending evil author vibes) now. Thanks for reading!


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